


Occasional Absolution

by DegenerateBible



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Absolving sex, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DegenerateBible/pseuds/DegenerateBible
Summary: Huck does not remember exactly when Olivia came to him for occasional absolution but he’s not complaining.





	

…

Huck does not remember exactly when Olivia came to him for occasional absolution but he’s not complaining. Sometimes she asks for it point blank. Often they’re alone in her apartment and she’s had a bottle of wine on her own, sometimes it’s when they’re alone in the office and sometime she simply doesn’t ask. Sometimes he just knows. Like he knew she was fucking the president, like he knew her childhood wasn’t the prettiest, like he knew she tasted of redemption and sin intertwined before he even got the chance to kiss her lips. 

Like he knows now, when she walks in, her heels knocking swiftly against the floor, her face like a shattered mosaic. The others do not know what to do. It’s midday and normally bad news comes at night and they’ve never seen her like this, like he has. 

“What…?” Abby says, for she’s concerned but horrible at expressing it. 

“I mean what’s wrong? What do we do? I mean is Olivia…. she’s not like crying or anything so…” Quinn is also nervous. Harrison is silent, sipping his coffee. He’s scared. They all are. 

“Take a break,” Huck growls, watching as she breezes right by them as if blind, directly into her office. 

Abby puts down her coffee mug incredulously. “We get breaks?” 

“Take a few hours. I got this.” 

And they comply, promising to come back with lunch. 

He barely hears them. He is preparing himself to be the person Olivia needs. 

When he enters, she is silently shaking, pouring a stiff drink. The glasses clink together before she puts them down. 

Huck seats himself on the couch and waits until she’s downed half the glass before he says, “Come here.” 

She turns to him all fury and pain and brilliance, tears standing in her eyes. “Leave Huck.” 

“No.” 

“Huck.” It’s a warning, one he normally would heed for her tone is deadly, but not now. Not when she looks half-manic and so uncharacteristically unsure. 

“No.” 

“Huck get out of my fucking—!” 

“Olivia!” he yells over her. He never yells at her. It stuns her into silence. She huffs and takes another shaky sip of her drink. 

They stare at each other. 

“Now you listen to me,” he says, quiet, serious. “I don’t know what happened.” 

He puts up a hand before she can interject. “I don’t know what happened. But I don’t need to know.” He waits. “But I know things. And I know what you need right now. So we can do this the hard way or you can come here now.” 

The silence is thick and heavy. He questions why it is him that she comes to. Perhaps it’s because they’ve both seen their fair share of blood. They have bodies between them. She knows precisely who he is, of what he is capable and he knows that she can be an animal in her own right. 

But she walks over to him, dressed to kill in white pants and a white blouse, grey pea coat and matching heels. She can make him feel like such a peasant, such a street boy without even knowing and yet she is his now. Her plump lips a sinful red, quivering and kissable and he pulls her into his lap like a promise. 

“You want me in heels or no?” she murmurs against his chest and he shakes his head. 

“This is about you. Whatever you want.” And the heels fall with a thud to the floor. 

She’s always the most nervous at this part. The part where she makes the choice, where she worries if she’s using him, or doing something worse than what brought her here. He waits, patiently as she processes. But then she kisses him and he peels off her pea coat and casts it to the side. 

How many people knew that under these clothes were silks and satins? 

He groans lowly at the sight of her red lingerie, her brown nipples hardening before he can even get his hands on them. And oh how he wants his hands on them but there is work to be done first. 

He never fails to get hard at the sight of her laid out across his lap. And she never fails to tease him. He grins at her uncharacteristic playfulness, her rare smile. But then he lands one hard swat to her ass and the smile disappears. 

He doesn’t stop until her ass is red, the slapping the only audible noise in the otherwise empty office. And when he’s finished she’s wet and on the cusp of tears and he pulls her back up, into his lap, wipes her tears with one hand and then slips inside her with the other. 

When she cums, her body is nearly electrified, she whimpers and shakes and moans and Huck has three fingers inside of her and is sucking hard on her nipple and he feels all of it. And would give anything to do it again, would sell what little soul he has left to the devil himself in order to do it all again. 

“Good. That’s good,” Huck praises, his voice the same tone as when he’s ripped bodies apart, wonder and awe. “You’re not afraid to cry anymore when I spank you. That’s good.” 

She smiles against his neck. “You’re good, Huck.” 

He smiles at her praise. But she isn’t done. She raises herself up till her breasts are aligned with his face and begins unbuttoning the blue jeans. 

His hands stop her. He grins wolfishly, aware that this is not yet over. Absolution not yet achieved. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says quietly. 

“I want…” so good with words but she falters now before him, this man who has killed for a living, who would slit anyone’s throat if someone even looked at her wrong. “Huck…I want…I want you to make me forget everything but your name.” 

That he can do. 

When he’s finally inside her its pure ecstasy, so good it almost hurts. She’s wet and tight for him, just for him, and he groans and kisses her, her neck, her lips. She likes to be bitten and marked, to be owned, if only for a few hours. For she is the broken fixer, the apolitical political force of nature, she has power to save and to bring suffering. But now, now, she is his, moaning and begging, grinding against him, perfectly wanton. He will never tire of her scent, the taste of her and the way she says his name. 

“What’s my name?” he whispers into her ear and she moans and clenches around him. So good, so fucking divine.

“Huck.” 

He slaps her ass as she cries out before bringing a hand up to caress her smooth cheek, her plump lips. “No,” he says, grinning because she knows how close she is, knows it only takes a swift caress of her clit and she will cum undone again. 

“No Olivia, say my name.” 

Her eyes shine with recognition, with surprise and trust and lust. His hand travels to her clit and her beautiful eyes close, rides him for everything he’s worth and shouts Diego into his ear along with a string of curses and pleas and he cums as well, sinking his teeth in her shoulder to muffle his own groans and for a while he can’t feel anything but the heat of her and his own release. 

He hears _thank you, thank you Huck. Thank you _. He shakes off the thanks before gently pulling her pants back on along with her blouse before readjusting his own trousers. He’s always so gentle when redressing her. At first she’d told him not to bother, but he likes it. He likes that for once, _he can help _her, rescue her, take care of her. She deserves all this and more.____

He wants to say that no thanks are necessary. Doesn’t she know he’d bring the republic to its knees for her? That he’d kill and be killed if it meant protecting her, this brown angel, this relentless power hungry beast birthed from ambition and bloodshed? He knows because he was birthed from the same things.  


___“No. Thank you,” he replies gruffly instead._ _ _

___ _

**Author's Note:**

> Please review.


End file.
